Damien
For a moment, the manor felt less like a prison and more like a stage set for the performance of a lifetime.
We descended the staircase together.
As we reached the main hall, the council members began to file in, their faces of curiosity and veiled hostility. I could feel their eyes on us, measuring, calculating.
Rosie slipped her hand into mine, her fingers warm and firm. "Remember," she whispered, "they're watching us, but they'll never see the strings we pull."
I squeezed back, a silent acknowledgment that the game had truly begun. The doors to the council chamber swung open, and the murmurs of the pack faded into a low hum as we stepped forward.
***
Rosie
The elders, old wolves whose faces were etched with years of power and suspicion sat in a semi‑circle, their eyes fixed on him like hawks watching a mouse.
I took a breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle in my chest.
